


Five Times John Watson (Accidentally) Touched Sherlock Holmes And One Time The Detective Returned The Favour

by Stormymouse



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 03:42:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1495276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stormymouse/pseuds/Stormymouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Just a few vignettes that kept rumbling around in my head, completely unrelated to anything that actually happens in any of the episodes we were given. Basically also just a little present for my grasshopper. Happy Easter!</p>
    </blockquote>





	Five Times John Watson (Accidentally) Touched Sherlock Holmes And One Time The Detective Returned The Favour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sam80853](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sam80853/gifts).



> Just a few vignettes that kept rumbling around in my head, completely unrelated to anything that actually happens in any of the episodes we were given. Basically also just a little present for my grasshopper. Happy Easter!

John was sitting on the couch, watching a movie. Something silly, unimportant. What suddenly made it the most amazing movie was the sound of Sherlock laughing. Genuine, full-bodied laughter. At a joke. It felt more foreign than anything he had experienced lately. He stared at the man next to him, his hair the usual disarray, lines drawn on his face, this time put there by pure joy and not by pain. Without thinking John put his arm on the back of the sofa and buried his fingers in the dark locks. Sherlock's body stiffened and John quickly let his hand slip away, pretending as if nothing had happened.

***

Sherlock was sitting at the kitchen table, running one of his experiments. He was completely absorbed in it, his teeth worrying his lower lip as he crunched up his nose in concentration. Minute movements of his eyes and hands indicated the use of his memory palace. John looked over at him from where he was making tea and smiled. As he sat down a mug on the table next to the microscope he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the crown of Sherlock's head. Only when he sat down in his chair did he realize what he had just done.

***

The sound of Sherlock playing the violin woke John up. He looked at the display on his phone and smiled to himself. At least today the sounds coming from the living room had started at a civilized hour. Yawning, he swung his legs out of bed and walked downstairs. Sherlock's eyes were closed, lost in the melody, and as John walked past him to get the newspaper from the desk, he reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Sherlock's ear. John inhaled sharply as the music stopped and only continued breathing as the melody started up again.

***

They'd had the argument before. Sherlock refused to eat and John insisted that he had to. Sherlock glared at the plate in front of him and John glared at Sherlock. He rubbed his palm across his face. Sometimes he wondered if the toddler approach with airplane or train noises would do the trick. John picked up the knife and fork and handed them to Sherlock. As he hadn't expected a reaction he wasn't surprised when he didn't get one. Putting down the knife again he reached out with one hand to grab Sherlock's arm, fingers sliding down until he reached his wrist, gently opening up the fist and placing the fork inside. Drawing circles across Sherlock's knuckles with his thumb, he looked up, eyebrows raised in a silent question. Quicksilver eyes stared back at him, then down at John's fingers on his skin as Sherlock slowly reached for the food. John stood up and turned around, his face warm and flushed, looking down at his fingers.

***

The inevitable crash after the exhausting case had finally hit Sherlock and he had fallen asleep on the sofa, right next to John. In his sleep he pushed his bare feet under John's thighs, John subconsciously lifting his leg to accommodate him. As he put down his book to reach for his cup of tea John found himself staring at his other hand wrapped around Sherlock's ankle, his index and middle fingers stroking up and down the instep. Carefully he pulled back his hands, one from the unfamiliar feel of Sherlock's naked skin, the other from the cup of tea, and placed both of them in his lap with a sigh.

***

The coat tails of the Belstaff flapped behind Sherlock as he was running down the alley, John right behind him at his heels. Both their breaths were coming in ragged puffs. Their pursuers were losing ground and after another minute they heard the sound of the police sirens and Lestrade's voice, ordering the men to stop and to put their hands above their heads. John backed up to the nearest wall, leaning against the rough brownstone. It had been a close call. Too close for comfort. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sherlock rest against the wall next to him. Just as he was about to open his mouth to let loose a string of curses he felt a slight movement against his fingers. Looking down he saw Sherlocks hand moving towards his, palm against palm. In invitation John spread his fingers and turned to look at Sherlock with a smile on his face which was returned dazzlingly as their hands slotted together like perfect puzzle pieces.


End file.
